


A Memory Not to Be Forgotten

by nobaru_rei



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crossover, Eventual Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Supernatural Intervention, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobaru_rei/pseuds/nobaru_rei
Summary: Brought forward by fate, Newt Scamander is given the duty to heal an Obscurus.





	1. The Memory

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going down this rabbit hole of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and I'm taking you all down with me. I haven't written anything in quite a long time… so long actually I have forgotten how to actually publish things on these damn sites. So I guess all I can tell you is to try to enjoy my trash and hope it make your day all the worse. Have fun.
> 
> Oh, and my oh so fabulous beta readers would be my good friends Mello and Nickels.
> 
> And yeah, I don't own Harry Potter or any of the Shakespearean references in this story.

Chapter 1: The Memory

You can't save them all. Sometimes, you're just too late.

Newt Scamander wasn't one for being a rivals man. He trusted people, it was as simple as that. To him, there was no such thing as a dark wizard or a completely tainted person. Everyone had a chance at redeeming themselves and everyone could always come to him when they needed that help. But if there was something Newt Scamander valued more than anything, it would be his sleep.

Anyone who knew Newt, which not very many, knew not to disturb his beauty rest. This unspoken agreement was heard by even his creatures.

The case was the sanctuary of sorts, not only to his creatures but to himself. If he was down in his case people knew not to disturb him, because he was rather tending to his creatures or sleeping.

This was why people never tried to bother him while he was in his case. Though not much can be said being that he didn't have many human friends.

Which was why Newt had awoken one summer night fairly moody. Some unknown force was not so gently coaxing him awake. This was not settling with Newt; he tried rolling away from whoever thought it was a good time to awaken him. Whatever apparent emergency situation said person thought was important enough to wake him could wait a couple more hours. But apparently, that didn't settle well enough with the other party. Newt was nearly thrown from the pile of leaves he had made his bed the previous afternoon.

Newt then began to become mad, and mad wasn't something that bode well with him. Sleep was the one time he could enjoy being nobody and being everybody, sleep is full of new beginnings that all ended when you woke up. It was a terrible, yet delightful thing, and he was mad that it had been disturbed. What he didn't realize it was what waited for him when he opened his eyes.

It was a woman, a fairly elegant one. Petite and bathed in a yellow light, hair cascaded down a heart-shaped face adorned with milky blind eyes. But though this woman seemed to not be able to see physically, it didn't mean that she couldn't see.

As he reached for his wand the woman began to walk towards him, dozens of thin robes flowed behind her.

Though there was an unknown woman in his case, he couldn't bring himself to attack. As she drew nearer a sense of calm washed over him.

"I need your help, Newt," the woman said. Her voice ringing like bells. It rang out in waves sounding as if the two were underwater.

Never one to deny help for someone in need, Newt's attitude turned around towards the woman.

"What happened?" asked Newt warily, it seemed as if these days he never got a break.

"Not what...but who"

"What do you mean?" Newt was confused. She was just answering questions with commentary that wasn't answering what he was asking.

Suddenly, the woman's calm demeanor stiffened, almost scared. "We need to hurry," she said as she grabbed his hand. Nails digging into soft flesh. "We are almost out of time."

It was then that Newt felt a pull. Not in his stomach like a normal port key, but he felt like he was being pulled from every direction. As if he was being ripped apart and put together over and over again. He wished he could say it happened just as fast as it begun, but the experience felt like hours. A never ending cycle of madness. Just when he felt like he was on the brink of insanity, it ended.

He found himself in a wonderland of debris— houses destroyed, blue-veined corpses littered the streets, while snow-like ash softly drifted down to Earth.

Afraid to speak he found himself in front of a slab of concrete, where a once standing house was now completely obliterated. Most likely he epicenter of the destruction. Newt would have asked what happened if he didn't already know.

Putting his head down he told the woman, "I can't."

"You can and you will."

"No….you don't understand, I simply can't. I've tried before, and I've tried again; and both times I have failed to heal. I am not the right person for this job."

The golden lady looked into his eyes with a believing stare. "You will."

"How can you know for sure that I won't mess up again. I'm a failure…"

The woman sighed with half lidded eyes. "Self-doubt doesn't look good on you, Newt." Looking up again she said, "trust me."

Looking at the woman Newt could see no signs of foul play. But who was he kidding, he always gave help when asked for it. "Where?"

The woman pointed to her left and gave him a solemn look. Before venturing off to what was undeniably an obscurus, and a powerful one at that, he had to ask, "Who are you?" Eyes burning with curiosity he couldn't help but wonder what was going on, but also who she was as well.

Giving her first smile since their meeting, she put a hand to his cheek. "The one who will always guide you to what need." With that, her glow started to diminish, and with that light, her.

Newt touched his cheek, still feeling her lingering touch. He felt a connection with the woman. An almost pull towards her being. And the place he was at..it almost felt as if fate brought him here...fate. Newt couldn't help but laugh, covering his face as he bent down in the snow-like landscape. Of course, only fate would have the audacity to meddle in one's life. To create and destroy as she chose. For whatever reason he was brought here was part of a major plan in the making.

He had heard stories since he was a child of fate, about how her mind was ever changing and how her will became reality. He could only hope that her fantasies wouldn't conflict with his plans for the future. But even as he thought that, he knew it was all for naught. For like Romeo, he was fortune's fool. From a young age, he had been in the shadow of his brother, Theseus. A now well-known auror among Britain, a hero to many. He took the fall for his best friend, Leta Lestrange, during school, and got expelled in her place.

He was finally getting somewhere. He had just brought the manuscript to the Ministry, successfully getting it approved for print. He had met a girl he felt a special connection with. He was finally starting to find himself. And now he was on the ground, his suitcase beside him, in an unknown environment.

So he got up. Because that is what Newt Scamander does. He gets up and gets over it. There is no changing the direction of fate. Because sometimes there is no other direction.

As he followed the destruction out of the small neighborhood he noticed the bodies on the ground twitching. Bending down to one of the corpses he discovered that the man was in fact, alive. Moving to a woman, he found all the people were alive. The people were injured for sure, but not dead. They seemed to be stuck within a strange curse which left them in a permanent hiatus. Their eyes glassed over and bodies paralyzed, Newt decided that they would be okay until he returned.

If he returned, that is.

Newt soon stumbled upon what seemed to be an abandoned playground. Nature had taken over, the weeds breaking through concrete, vines crawling along the playsets. Flowers were strewn across the area, filling cracks in the pavement that let the center of it all. A swing set.

The swing set seemed to have, at one point, held three children, but now only had one swing still attached. And above it all was the concern of his current endeavors. The obscurus.

It hung like a low cloud, twisting and turning in the wind over the swing set. Complete darkness overhanging the playground.

It looked small. Smaller than the girl in the desert and undoubtedly smaller than Credence. But something was different about this particular obscurus. It has a different air about it. While the girl and Credence were filled with hatred and abhorrence, this one felt scared, disgusted, self-loathful. Not only that, but there's also the fact that the obscurial didn't seem to kill anyone. These observations drew to the fact that the obscurus was different than others. And he found out why.

Because this obscurus was far more powerful than any he's ever come upon or read about. simply being in his presence was dementor-like. Though small in size, it seemed to absorb all the happiness and the good you thought about life, leaving you to only doubt yourself, because what else can you do?

Pulling himself together Newt approached the broken child. He could practically hear its cries from within.

His head supplied him with a name: Harry. Which was a phenomenon to blame on fate.

"Harry?" he spoke whilst walking closer. Dried leaves cringed under his boots at his arrival on the playground.

At the sound of his name the crying ceased. It was then that the Obscurus attempted to curl in on itself. He was afraid of him….no. Newt soon realized he was afraid of himself. Of the destruction he caused, of what he could still do.

"Please go away," a warbled voice whispered. "Please don't hurt me."

"Harry, I'm not going to hurt you," Newt said with a smile. "I only want to help you, and protect you from yourself."

"I don't deserve help, I'm...I'm a freak." Harry seemed to choke out. "They were right, I'm a terrible thing. I hurt people. And I deserve the worst things possible."

Having flashbacks to Credence, Newt kept talking, "Of course not, Harry, you didn't do a thing wrong."

"How could I not? How could I not have done something wrong when no one seems to love me?" Harry said.

"Well," Newt said stepping closer. "I don't love you." At that, the obscurus seemed to flinch back. "But, I could learn to love you. Harry...would you become my friend?" Newt had no idea what he was doing, he was just trying to calm Harry down. Internally freaking out he wondered if he was saying the right things, or if he was doing more harm than good.

"Really?" a voice asked, pulling him out of his musings. Looking up Newt saw the sorriest sight he had ever seen. A small boy who looked around 5 years of age, but Newt could tell he had to be 10 years old. Almost old enough to begin Hogwarts. And Newt did not want him to miss his chance at that kind of adventure and happiness.

Drawing nearer Newt realized just how unfortunate of a life Harry had to be living. With clothes at least 5 sizes too big, he looked swamped in filthy clothing. But little to nothing could be done to hide just how underfed the boy was. Before doing anything else Newt quickly set his briefcase of the ground and pulled out a plate of treacle tart he was saving for a rainy day. Putting the tart into the boy's hands he pretended to pull a fork out of Harry's ear, a trick that only worked on muggles and the unknowing wizards with a reply of, "really."

Smiling at Harry's dumbfound expression he looked into Harry's enormous vibrant green eyes, Newt fixed the swing on the right side of Harry and sat down alongside him. As he started to swing he noticed that Harry hadn't touched the sweet. In fact, he hadn't moved at all. "I didn't poison it, you know," Newt said with a humorous laugh.

As if being pulled from somewhere Harry jerked up in shock. "This is for me?"

Newt snorted, "Who else would I be giving it too? Pickett?" At the sound of his name, the small Bowtruckle crawled out of Newt's jacket to sit on his shoulder.

"Um, I guess not," Harry said looking down. He seemed a bit confused on what Pickett was, but apparently didn't want to seem stupid and ask. At that, Pickett burrowed back into Newts clothing with a huff, not liking being ignored.

"Well, go on," Newt said with a waving motion. "It is positively delicious if I do say so myself. One of my favorite sweets actually."

At his permission Harry practically inhaled the pastry, giving the notion he hadn't eaten in days. Which judging by his size, he probably hadn't. Looking up Newt had the strange to brush the boy's hair. It was everywhere. Crazed curls taking up the boy's head and making home around his face. Harry would probably be a lady-killer if he packed on a couple of pounds. When he was finished he looked up with a smile on his face, studying the man before him. "This is what friends do...right?"

Newt couldn't help but be sad at the fact that this was the closest the young boy seemed to have ever gotten to having a proper friend. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Newt began to wipe the crumbs off Harry's face. With a smile he said, "Yes, of course, and what a messy little boy you are, Harry."

Harry's face dropped. "I-.. I'm sorry," he said, fear growing.

Newt could see him begin to close in on himself. "No no! It's quite all right. We are all allowed to have a bit of fun. How about we have a bit of fun? Hm?" Newt said with a tilt of his head.

"Fun?" Harry said fearfully. "When Dudley says that we'll have fun, he always hurts me."

"No, that's not fun at all," Newt said quickly, hiding his disgust for the Dudley character. How badly was the boy treated? "I was just wondering if you'd like to meet some of my friends?"

Harry's eyes seemed to come to life. "Friends? Do you think they'd like me?"

"Of course! And they are right here with us!" Newt said as he lifted up his briefcase. And Harry's judging stare he then preceded to tell Harry that they were inside the case. "But first, it seems like your glasses seem a bit crooked."

Harry blushed and touched the scotch tape that held together his cheap glasses that had been broken many times from being punched in the nose much too often. Pointing his wand at Harry's glasses Newt said, "Oculus Reparo." Within seconds Harry's glasses were fixed and the tape drifted to the ground. "Now look at that! Good as new."

Setting his case on the ground he unclasped the latches with a click. While opening the case he gave Harry a grin that spread the entirety of his face. Newt stood up and began walking down the steep stairs into what he considered his home, when he noticed a certain boy not behind him called out, "Harry! Don't forget! My friends are your friends. And they'll be sad if you don't show up."

With that, he saw Harry's head pop through the doorway. "Um, sir?" Harry said hesitantly. Newt then realized he didn't give the boy his name. Walking up the stairs until they were nose to nose Newt said enthusiastically, "Apologies for my rudeness! My name is Newt. Newt Scamander."

Taken by surprise Harry blinked. Holding out a hand, he said, "Harry, Harry Potter." They shook hands and Harry said, "Um... Mr. Scamander."

"Call me Newt."

"Newt...you shouldn't be doing this out in the open.."

"Doing what?"

"Well.." Harry said, looking uncomfortable. "Being freakish."

"Freakish." Newt's brows furrowed together.

"You know!" Harry blurted out looking to his left and right then whispered, "Non-ordinary things. You could get into trouble. Only freaks do this kind of stuff." Harry seemed genuinely worried for Newt as if the authorities were going to take him away any minute.

"Well," Newt said. "If I am a freak for performing magic and having a grand time...then let me be a freak! And Harry, if you'd like to have fun, then we can be freaks together. It doesn't matter what anyone else calls you, Harry. A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet."

At Harry's confused expression he elaborated, "Meaning you are who you are and no matter what anyone calls you, you will always be you. Calling a rose a flobberworm doesn't make it any less of a rose. You are Harry..and Harry, you are a wizard."

It seemed like time seemed to stand still between the two. Emotion permeating the air. "But...Aunt Petunia says magic is unnatural."

"Harry, you were born to be special, all of us are. Don't let hurtful words get in the way of who you are," Newt said. "Now come! I want to show you something!" Taking Harry's hand he pulled the boy into his world. But before the case shut he cast a quick ward around the neighborhood, keeping anybody from coming in. He wasn't too worried about anyone getting out.

In the span of the next few hours, Newt took Harry on the most extraordinary house tour he'd ever had the chance to witness. They walked through deserts, traveled over mountains, and met with animals Harry had never dreamed of. Through it he had become attached to Pickett who again came out of his hiding place.

They soon came back to where it all started in the little shack attached to the stairs. Newt brought them tea and biscuits to snack on and didn't mind when Harry had nearly eaten the entire tray. It was time to talk.

"Harry, it's okay to be afraid."

"What do you mean?" he replied, crumbs falling from his mouth as he talked. He was truly a messy kid.

"What I mean is that things will seem scary, and they will be, but it's okay because I believe you can get through it."

Fear flashed through Harry's eyes. "You aren't leaving me are you?" he said backing up, his chair falling over in the process. Starting to tremble he began again, "I-I don't want to go back to them, I don't want to stay there! They'll just hurt me again."

Newt knew the consequences of Harry relapsing into an obscurus again, which was why he had brought him into his case. Walking towards the terrified boy who had fallen to the floor Newt knelt down and spoke to him in a low voice,"Harry, I'll fix everything, I'll make it to where they don't remember what you did."

"But I'm scared," the broken boy said as tears rolled down his face.

"It's okay to be scared," he said whilst cupping the boy's cheeks. "Being scared means that you are brave, that you are going through something really scary and that you are brave enough to overcome it. It's okay to be scared, but Harry, look at me. You can not let fear overcome you. You need to rise above that fear and you need to be Harry. You need to be my brave Harry and rise above everyone else. Not what they say you are, what you say you are."

With that Newt pulled Harry towards him, knowing that he had to leave the boy on his own. "Soon, you will receive a letter, Harry. And that letter will change your life. That letter will make things better. I promise you, Harry, I promise you on our friendship that life will get better. You just have to be strong for a bit longer. You cannot control the actions of others, but you can control how you react." As he held the boy in his arms he knew what he had to do. In Harry's ear, he whispered a charm to make him fall into a deep sleep. Picking him up, he left him in a small cot in the back of the room.

He then proceeded to climb the stairs to the outside, where he witnessed again the destruction caused by such a small boy. Anyone who would have seen it would think it was the work of someone insane, but Newt knew better. Harry was stronger than any obscurial he had ever met. Even though he was broken, even though he had been abused, he had the willpower to not kill anyone.

It was amazing.

So over the span of the next few hours he wiped everyone's mind and fixed every single house. It took much strength and much time, but he got it done. Not many knew, but he had a large reserve of magic in his core. While fixing the neighborhood he came across a newspaper. What surprised him wasn't the newspaper itself, but the date said 1990. "Blimey," he whispered to himself. He knew the surroundings were strange, but he just left it at muggle aesthetic. He had traveled through time.

Pushing it to the back of his mind Newt finished the neighborhood and again came to the playground. He debated on breaking the swing he had fixed, as to not leave a trace, but decided against it.

Once again entering the case he came upon Harry, and before he could stop himself, wiped his mind. It hurt. His chest seemed to almost concave on itself. The fact that Harry would no longer remember him felt awful. But it was for the best. He had left his words in his mind. So Harry would no longer be a danger to himself or anybody else. To Harry, it will have been a dream.

It was then he noticed the bruising. It just made it all the harder to leave him. Quickly healing some of his minor wounds Newt picked up Harry one last time, cradling him in one arm. In the other, he held his wand, and with a deep breath spoke, "Point me, Harry Potter's home."


	2. Unexpected Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here's chapter 2. Depending on where the story takes me, depends on if I'm going to continue or not.

Harry learned from a very young age that there was only a certain amount of bullshit one could tolerate until they completely lost it. 

 

Which was precisely why he was searching for every reason under the god damned sun why he shouldn't tell the man before him where he could shove it.

 

The war was over, but everyone was still on high alert. Not everyone completely believed that Voldemort was no longer a threat. After all, why should they? He was thought to be dead only to somehow rise from the depths of whatever hell he seemed to crawl from.There was still those freaked-out adults and teenagers who had seen too much, that continue to cause scenes. For example: What was currently happening.

 

Patience was a much acquired skill, and Harry believed that he was the container of vast amount. But like he previously thought, a person can only hold out for so long.

 

It was the man’s shouting that pulled Harry out of his musings. Eyes focusing back on the man in front of him. What was his name again?

 

“Oh, I see, you think you're too much of a big shot to even pay attention to the likes of me. I see, oh glorious one. Should I bow before you? How about kiss your feet? Maybe then you may give me the grandeur that is your attention.”

 

Harry sighed and he found himself once again in Diagon Alley. It's been not even a year since the war ended, and it seemed he still couldn't get away from people. There were many who looked upon Harry as if he were a God who walked the among them. Which was actually pretty disturbing. He was just Harry. 

 

Then there were those like the man in front of him. The ones who blamed him for everything done to them. And Harry understood, he really did. He was the figurehead of the war. The one who brought the triumph of winning to all, but also brought the heartbreak and desolation to each family for every live that was lost. It was, and will forever be, his curse. 

 

The Master of Death truly seemed to be a fitting title (not that many knew of his status). Being that he was thought to be the one to be the cause of the entire war. 

 

He had been shopping for school supplies for his eighth and final year at Hogwarts. Hermione had talked to him a forced him into thinking very wisely about giving up his apparently obligatory education. She said it was best for him. Which he couldn’t see how it would, the Ministry already offered him a job as an Auror. To which he said it would set an example to the wizarding world that it was time to heal. To which he couldn’t argue.

 

He wasn't looking forward to going back to Hogwarts. Its halls were filled with haunted memories and the ghosts of friends and classmates that he had failed.

 

In fact, he wasn’t all too thrilled to be in the wizarding world, period. Everywhere he looked just contained another shattered memory. One that brought back visions of who he used to be, and what he lost only to never get back.

 

Which was why the pompous asshat in front of him wasn’t making his day any the better.

 

Harry had chosen a long black cloak for his excursion. He wanted to go about undetected and didn't want anyone to approach him. But with secrecy there is fear, and by not showing his face people on the sidewalks grew wary of his figure. One man confronted him, ripping his cloak away from his face, probably expecting a Death Eater. But to the man before him a Death Eater would probably have provoked a lesser reaction than Harry himself did. Because in the eyes of this man, he saw Harry as a symbol of all that he had lost. And he wasn't afraid to accost him about it.

 

Tired, Harry stepped forward. “Sir, whatever it is that you need from me, all you need to do is ask,” he said, trying to speak in a civil manner. Trying to shut this conversation down before it could escalate any further.

 

“Oh! So now he speaks!” The man said wildly, his large stomach bouncing with every word. “Perhaps it's because I said I kiss his feet, or maybe because I acknowledged him as a superior!”

 

“Sir, please, you're making a scene. If you could just tell me your reason for approaching me we could both be on our way,” Harry said. He knew if he walked away the man would take it as a sign of disrespect and only further his accusations. How he hated formalities.

The man laughed. “A scene? Is that what you say this is? That I'm just a crazy old man? You are even worse than I thought, Potter.”

 

Harry was immediately reminded of his early years at Hogwarts. Where him and Draco would pick at each other. They were children then and just as the man in front of him seem to be now. When all goes to hell, people just revert back to uncouth schoolchildren.

 

Again, Harry spoke, “What is it you want?”

 

A wry smile spread across the man’s face, a gleam of dejection could be seen in his eyes. “What I want, Mr. Potter,” the man said, spitting out every word, growing louder and louder “is no longer attainable. What I want, Mr. Potter is, and will forever be unattainable.”

 

Harry felt for the man. “You have experienced loss.”

 

“Have I lost? There is not one wizard or witch it the whole of Merlin’s damned England that hasn't felt loss. And I speak for all of them when I say it is your fault that we continue to do so.”

 

Harry flinched; he knew what had been coming. Fault. The man was pinning the blame on him. As many did. They had begun to attract a crowd of onlookers. Trying to end things as soon as possible Harry spoke up.

 

“Sir-”

 

“No,” the man cut him off. “We trusted you. We trusted you with our lives. With our families. And not only do you get them killed, but you continue to dishonor them even in death.”

 

At Harry’s blank state the man kept yelling. “They die! And yet you allow their murderers to walk the street. You called the war off when it wasn't over.”

 

Realizing what the man was trying to say Harry tried to speak up but the man wouldn't allow it. “Murders,” he said cruelly.

 

“You know as well as everyone else that I do not have the authority to jail or execute anyone. Why kill more when we have lost so many?”

 

“Yet you allow them to walk the streets! Free from what they deserve! Where is the justice? Where is morality?”

 

“No murderer wanders the streets.”

 

“Lies! Take Draco Malfoy!”

 

Harry glowered. “He was a child manipulated by society to believe he only had one choice and a father who wouldn't let him choose another even if he could. He did nothing wrong but being born into the wrong family.”

 

The man only grew more furious. “Lies. And to think people consider the like of you a hero. One who ends a war before it’s even over.”

 

“I never said I was a hero, but being a hero means knowing when the battle is over.”

 

“So you think you know everything. That you are better than everyone else.”

 

The crowd had since tripled in size since the beginning of their conversation.

 

Harry sighed, fighting the urge to rolled his eyes. “I never said that.” 

 

Harry might as well have not said anything for the man continued to rant, “Oh Great One, please tell us what you know that we apparently don't.”

 

The murmuring stopped as the crowd leaned in, not wanting to miss a beat of what the Boy-Who-Lived was about to say.

 

Looking up, Harry realized no one ever asked him that question. No one has ever asked how he felt about the war, about what he realized through surviving. He was always told what to do and never had a say in anything, even when he thought he had to pay for the war with his life.

 

“I know exactly what you know. I know what it's like to lose someone. I've learned through this war that I have yet to know everything. Not that I ever thought I did. But that's why I live every day in search of the mentality to understand everything and everyone such as yourself. Because no matter how different you think we are, we are very much alike. I've learned that magic is beautiful, yet cruel at the same time. I've learned that you can't bring someone back no matter how much you beg. I've learned-” Harry stopped himself, realizing that he was rambling and saying too much. At least one person was most likely recording the confrontation, and it would probably be in tomorrow's newspaper at the very latest. But he just couldn't help but read into the story of the man in front of him.

 

Harry felt his carefully woven composure began to tear.

 

“You don't have to believe me, you don't have to listen to me, and you most certainly don't have to like me. But if you think for one moment that I have not felt the same loss that you feel right now. You are sorely mistaken.”

 

The man faltered he knew he was losing the war on words, “You didn't have a wife. A partner. A soulmate.”

 

Harry chuckled humorless, “I don't need a wife to feel loss, just as I don't need one to know what love feels like.”

 

“You don't know what it feels like to have a family, how horrible it feels when they die,” said the man desperately. It seemed as if the man wasn't going to stand not winning the argument. But then again...what was the argument. What was the man actually trying to say?

 

It seemed as Harry wanted to close in on himself. “What is family? Truly. Is family only meant for those that have the same blood? Because I have those that claim to love me all the same.”

 

It seemed a though the man had enough. Rising to his full height and taking a breath Harry thought the man was about to grab him. But he didn't have it in his heart to fight back. The man may have degraded him in front of dozens of wizards, but he did it because of what he thought was right.

 

But surprisingly to both Harry and the crowd the man before him instead fell to the ground and wept.

 

“What do I do?” the voice said between choked sobs.

 

“You move forward. You don't look back. Because no matter how much you want to you can't take back what has already been done.”

 

Turning away from the man Harry said in a tone of finality, “Nothing comes from killing another other than hate. The cycle just continues to spin. If we have any chance of even attempting to reach peace, we must first learn to forgive.” And with that Harry walked away.

 

He couldn't blame the man. The person he hated more than Harry, was most likely himself. He couldn't do anything in the face of what lied before him. Because he was weak; he was powerless. 

 

Powerless to what lay in before him. Powerless against the age that set within his now aching bones; making him unable to fight. Powerless to prevent his children from fighting a war that was before their time. Powerless to do anything while he watched his children get slaughtered right in front of him. He was powerless to create any change whatsoever. Merely an observer to life.

 

The man was useless. 

 

And he knew it. 

 

Harry couldn't be mad at him, because the man had nothing to lose. He had already lost everything. And what had lied before him was the shell of a once proud man now broken. Someone who was trying to figure out how to live his life in a world without the ones who had kept him going.

 

But Harry would not pity him. He wouldn't disgrace the man in such a way.

 

Humans are fickle creatures, those who created morals to prevent chaos. It's not that we are skewed from one another, it's that there is no outline on what the person is supposed to be.

 

Therefore, there was nothing wrong with this man. He was simply living life without the outline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Newt is almost here. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> So how was it? Do tell.

**Author's Note:**

> So right now this is just a one-shot and I was thinking about making this into a full on story.. tell me what y'all think.


End file.
